


we love like a brother

by inlovewithnight



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cuddles, Gen, Team as Family, references to injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Panthers take care of their own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(or, Aaron is the team pet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we love like a brother

Aaron gets dizzy on the bus after the Oilers game. He blinks and squints, trying to chase the feeling away, but it doesn’t budge. There’s a headache forming, too, heavy and dull pain, and… shit. He doesn’t want this. Shit.

They _cleared_ him. He finished the game. This isn’t fair.

He’s sitting with Kuli, in the aisle seat because Kuli has seniority and likes to look out the window. Next year, when Aaron’s in his third year and they bring up some kids from Portland to fill in the gaps that Mitchie and Thorty are going to leave, then maybe he’ll get a window seat. Unless he keeps sitting with Kuli, which he might, because they’re d-partners and they get along well, and--

And his vision is swirling. He closes his eyes and lets go of a long breath, trying to keep it from sounding like a sigh.

No luck. Kuli elbows him in the side. “Hey.”

“What.”

“Eks. What was that for?”

Aaron opens his eyes and looks at him, and Kuli frowns. “Head?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron says. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t lie to Kuli, he just can’t. “Maybe.”

“Shit.” Kuli say sit with feeling and twists around in his seat. “Thorty, Eks looks bad.”

Everything gets weird after that, with what felt like half the team crowding around Aaron’s seat and looking at him. Thorty and Mitchie both have their hands on him, tilting his head back and forth, while Lu and Jags hang over Aaron’s seat from behind and make suggestions.

“We better have the trainers look at him when we get to the airport,” Mitchie says finally. “Until then, keep him awake, Kuli, got it?”

“It’s really not necessary--” Aaron says, but nobody’s listening to him and anyway, all the hands on him feel kind of nice. Less like he’s going to spin away into outer space.

“I’ve got him,” Kuli says, putting his arm around Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron’s head settles right on his shoulder, like a broad, weird pillow, and the motion hurts but the warmth of Kuli’s body doesn’t.

**

The next game is a nightmare.

They _lose_ , and he can’t even do the almost-nothing of sitting in the press box and trying to move the puck with his mind, because light hurts and movement hurts and noise hurts so he’s stuck back at the hotel, lying in bed with an ice pack on his face and only letting himself check the score on his phone every twenty minutes or so.

The loss is in overtime, so at least they kept the point streak going even if the win streak is shot, but _still_. It sucks, and it sucks that he can’t do anything, and it sucks that he’s stuck in the fucking hotel with Jeff the assistant trainer looking in on him and changing his ice like he’s a baby or something.

They’re in Canada, and he’s legal here, and he can’t have a drink. That sucks, too.

He’s lying there fuming when the door swings open, too soon to be Jeff again, and Sasha walks in, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Hey, Ek.”

“Hey.” Aaron shifts the ice pack to the side and blinks up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Eh.” Sasha waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t want to go out. Too shitty. I though I’d come sit with you, order food, hang out.”

“I’m not any fun. I can’t even have the TV on or anything.”

“No problem.” Sasha glances at his phone. “Oh, Bjugy’s coming too. Maybe Huby. We have a nice time.”

Aaron is pretty sure he should say no, tell them to go out and have fun and shake off the loss, but it’s… it’s nice, having Sasha there. The idea of having a bunch of his boys there sounds even nicer. He wants it, even if that’s weak and stupid.

So he doesn’t say anything, he just nods and shifts the ice pack on his forehead while Sashsa grabs the room-service menu and hums to himself.

After a minute Sasha lies back on the bed, too, settling against the pillows and stretched out next to Aaron so his body forms a long line of warmth along Aaron’s side. It feels so good that Aaron forgets why being weak and stupid should bother him at all.

**

The Flames game is even fucking worse. A _shutout_. That just…

Well, it sucks. It just sucks.

He listens to that game, streaming a Florida feed on his tablet, but that doesn’t make it any better. His head still hurts and his eyes won’t focus right and his body feels like it weighs a million pounds, but _still_. He wants to be out there playing, not stuck at the goddamn hotel by himself.

This time it’s Jags who shows up at his door, tired and looking older than he usually does. The lines around his eyes and mouth are drawn deep, and his hair is sticking flat to his forehead instead of curling. It looks as sad as he does.

“How are you feeling, Ek?” he asks, standing in the doorway.

“I wish I’d been out there.” Aaron sits up a little. “You’re not going out?”

“Ha. No one is going out, we are all licking our wounds.” Jags shakes his head and comes fully inside, kicking his shoes off by the door.

“Don’t you need to eat? You want to order something?”

Jags waves his hand. “Mitchell and Thornton are bringing food back for us.”

Aaron blinks. “What?”

“All coming to keep you company.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe, and then he climbs into Aaron’s bed like that makes sense, too. “Scoot over a little, yes?”

Aaron tries to think of anything to say, but nothing comes to mind before Jags is settled at his side and putting his arms around him like Aaron’s a doll.

“Just relax now,” Jags mutters against his hair. “Got you.”

“What… why…” Aaron isn’t sure what his question is. Shouldn’t he be the one comforting Jags, not the other way around? He didn’t lose a game. He’s just been lying here.

The door swings open again and Mitchie and Thorty come in with take-out bags. They both look about half-dead.

“Push the beds together,” Thorty says, dropping his bags on the table. “We need more room.”

Aaron still doesn’t understand what’s happening when he has Mitchie lying on his left, Jags to his right, and Thorty across the bottom of the giant bed-nest with his head on Aaron’s legs. But it feels nice. It’s warm. He can close his eyes and his head actually hurts a little less while he listens them to talk in low, murmuring voices while they eat.

He wonders why they’ve never done this before, why they don’t do it all the time. He falls asleep before he can figure out how to ask.

**

After the Tampa game, they go home. It’s a silent, sullen flight across the peninsula. Aaron’s head still hurts.

Nobody even asks him where he wants to go, he just gets put in Mitchie’s car and taken back to his house like an extra duffel bag. “I can go home,” he protests. “I’m doing a lot better.”

“Shush,” Mitchie says, and he sounds _exhausted_ , like he’s running on total empty, and that alarms Aaron enough that he does as he’s told.

Megan meets them at the door with a hug and a worried look for each of them, then sits them down in the kitchen for a snack before she’ll let them go to bed. Aaron’s leaning his head in his hands, more tired than makes any sense given that he didn’t play, when the knock comes at the front door.

Mitchie goes to get it, and comes back with Guddy and Soupy. Aaron stares at them from between his fingers, still holding his head up. “Hi?”

“Meg, you mind if they use the big bed?” Mitchie asks. “You and I can take the guest room?”

“That’s fine,” she says, going to get two more plates. “If you want to stay with them for a while, that’s fine, too.”

Aaron blinks a few times. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Guddy ruffles his hair and then kisses the top of Aaron’s head. He smells like Axe and Aaron kind of loves it. “Just take it easy.”

Soupy stands next to them and puts his arm around Aaron’s shoulder. It feels so nice Aaron almost falls asleep on the spot.

Instead he leans on his hands and listens while they all eat and talk quietly, until Soupy goes with Megan to change the sheets. Guddy and Mitchie each take one of Aaron’s arms and ease him up out of his chair, up the stairs to the bathroom, through a makeshift bedtime routine, and then put him in the bed as soon as the fresh bedding has settled.

He lies there feeling cold and weird while they all shuffle around to the bathroom and back, using all of Megan’s guest toothbrushes and stripping down to their boxers. And then he’s at the center of a pile of bodies again, warm and solid around him, close and real and his _team_.

“Don’t worry about it,” Guddy says again, and kisses Aaron’s cheek this time. “Just go to sleep.”

**

Aaron is _sure_ he’s ready to play in the Oilers game at home, but the trainers say no. “Better safe than sorry” and all that crap, and Coach _agrees_ with them, and it sucks.

He’s allowed to work out and come to the gameday meetings, but then instead of going home for a nap before pre-game skate, he goes home for a nap and then just… hanging around. He doesn’t have to be at the arena until way later. It _sucks_.

He’s back in his own apartment, at least, where he can sulk without feeling bad about Megan trying to cheer him up. He isn’t quite up to video games yet (not because anything’s wrong, he’s _fine_ , just… flashing lights are stupid, whatever) so he lies on the couch and listens to podcasts and flicks through Instagram and Tinder. It’s sort of like being busy.

Finally he gets to put on his suit and go to the arena and watch the game from the press box. That sucks, too. They get fucking demolished. Even Guddy fighting Hendricks is just stupid and pointless if they’re going to _lose_ again.

He drives home in a bad mood, changes into sweats and a t-shirt, and resumes his position on the couch. Everything is bullshit.

And then there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, Eks,” Reilly says, pushing past him. “I brought pizza.”

“Um.” Aaron steps back to make room for Lu and Howdy, who have more bags of food under their arms, and Pirri, who brings up the rear with a six-pack.

“Mitchie and Guddy are on their way,” Lu says. “With more beer. Are you cleared for beer yet? You can have water.”

“I’m fine,” Aaron says, staring at the buffet accumulating on his counter. “Why are you guys…”

“Why do you think?” Lu shakes his head like it’s stupid and obvious, so Aaron shuts up. “Do you have paper plates and stuff? Or just real plates? Because I can’t promise we’re not going to get drunk and break shit.”

They do get drunk. Some shit gets broken. Lu eventually goes home, but everyone else winds up piled on Aaron’s bed, arms and legs tangled around each other. It’s… it’s really nice. Having his team all around him, like they’re all really part of each other. Like they all belong.

**

He’s back in the lineup for the Blackhawks game, which makes him feel six hundred times better all by itself. But Mitchie isn’t playing. He’s on IR, which… that _sucks_. It’s not for a concussion, but still. Going on IR is, like… it’s for real.

“Calm down,” Mitchie says patiently, rubbing at Aaron’s head like he does to Pinot when the dog gets nervous. “I’m not injured, I’m just old and banged up and I need a week to rest.”

“Just a week.” Aaron knows he sounds suspicious, because Mitchie sighs and rubs his head harder. “You’re sure you’ll be back in a week?”

“Well, no, because in a week we be on All-Star Break, so then I’ll get a couple extra days. Which is good.”

“He hasn’t missed a game all year, Eks,” Thorty adds from somewhere nearby. “He’s earned it.”

“I guess.” Aaron feels Mitchie’s hand relax on his hair, and steps back a little. “But it’s still bullshit.”

“Then go out there and win one for me,” Mitchie says, turning back to his locker. “Make me proud.”

It makes Aaron feel squirmy when Mitchie says things like that. Like his stomach just… clenches up and squirms around. “I will.”

“We will,” Guddy says, slinging an arm around Aaron’s shoulder and pulling him in close. “Team sport, remember, kid?”

“He inspires us,” Lu calls from across the room. “Just by being all young and dumb and full of sunshine.”

Aaron definitely doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just kind of stands there, with Guddy hugging him. Everybody else looks at them and smiles, and the guys close by reach out to rumple his hair or punch his arm or just… pet him.

It’s weird and he likes it a lot. He feels warm all over.

**

They _win_. In a shutout. It’s fucking awesome.

He scores the last goal, but he doesn’t even really care, because they broke the Hawks’ streak, and they _won_ , for Mitchie, just like Aaron wanted to. Holy shit.

The locker room is loud and rowdy, like it should be after a win. They cool down and debrief and talk to the media, and then as soon as the room is clear Aaron looks around and asks nobody and everybody, “So are we doing the thing tonight?”

Glances go around the room. “What do you want to do, Eks?” Jussi finally asks. “Your pick.”

That kind of confirms some suspicions that had been nagging at him but he hadn’t wanted to look at too closely. It just makes him feel even warmer, and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. Thank god his beard is growing back in. “I think we should go keep Mitchie company.”

Glances go around again, and finally settle on McKenzie, who nods. “Yeah, sure. Anybody who’s in, meet up at Mitchie’s house.”

Aaron beams and most of the guys grin back before they turn their attention to finishing up and getting out of there. Thorty stops next to Aaron, his hand big and heavy on the back of Aaron’s neck.

“You’re bringing the food, though, kid. We fed your ass for a week.”

“Yes, sir.” Aaron closes his eyes and leans into his touch. “Any requests?”

Thorty pats him on the back and moves away. “You know what we like, bud.” 

Aaron hadn’t thought about it before, but he does know. He knows his team really well. “I’m on it,” he said, pulling his jacket on and reaching for his keys. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
